Sundays
by sinking815
Summary: I'm hoping that Gale might explain himself more, but his silence actually cements into my head the gut feeling I have been carrying around all week.  Gale wanted  - wants - to be more than friends.  With me.  AU K/G
1. Chapter 1

_Sundays_  
><em>Sinking815<em>  
><em>December 5th, 2011<em>

_A/N: I have not forgotten about Something Like Danger... I promise. But this idea intrigued me enough to stay up and write, even though I should be sleeping for my final tomorrow. Glad to see I have my priorities straight. ;) I was inspired to delve more into what happened in Katniss' recollection of Gale kissing her in the woods in Catching Fire. This will most likely be more than a one-shot and will most likely go AU at some point. Reviews are always greatly appreciated!_

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><p>Two hours is a long time to wait. If life can change in the blink of an eye, how much have I missed sitting out here? Probably nothing I'd actually miss. The cameras, the interviews, the paranoia that I'll mess this whole thing up. I most likely already have, coming out here to the woods.<p>

The idea of someone recording me sliding under the quiet fence and disappearing into the forest surrounding District 12 makes me shudder violently. Unease twists my empty stomach and I pretend that it's an aftershock of the disconcerting thought and not that I'm starting to panic.

Two hours, at least. He's never made me wait this long. Gale breathes for the freedom of these woods, just like I do. I take stock of my surroundings for the thousandth time. The trees have started to change from the deep greens of summer to the crisp colors of autumn. None have fallen yet, but it won't be long before the weather turns brisk and navigating the forest floor will be immensely harder when it is carpeted in yellow and orange. A songbird lights in one of the branches over my head and chirps merrily, flying off towards the echo made by its friend.

Pulling my knees to my chest, I fold my arms across the tops of my legs and bury my face. My breaths come in quick shallow blasts and my face feels hot. I swallow with difficulty and force myself to think positive thoughts. There could be any number of reasons he isn't here yet. Panicked negativity beats back my excuses with a resounding mantra.

He's not coming.

He doesn't want anything to do with me.

He's moved on.

He's gone.

A tear escapes and runs down my cheek. I raise my head to swipe angrily at it, starting to my feet when I catch a dark silhouette out of my peripheral vision, my hands automatically reaching for my bow. For a moment, I think my mind is playing a cruel joke on me as Gale and I stare at each other and the tears pour down my face, completely unchecked. They run harder when I realize my best friend is really there.

I want to laugh and cry at the same time and the noise that escapes me is something trying to do both. My bow falls to the forest floor with a dull thud as I rush towards Gale, throwing myself into his arms with a force strong enough to almost knock him off his feet. But he steadies us, wrapping me into a fierce embrace, his cheek resting against the top of my head. I want to tell him how much I miss him, how scared I was that I had lost him. Instead, I fracture, wailing into his chest, tears soaking the front of his shirt.

Gale holds me close as I shake and cry, only moving an arm to gently rub my back. We may have stood there for minutes or hours, I don't know. I'm so disoriented from my breakdown I've lost all sense of time and space. Slowly, my hysterics dissolve into a fit of ragged breaths and still Gale doesn't let go. I am vaguely aware of his breath against the top of my head and I think I feel him press his lips to my hair, but my gasps are suddenly harsh hiccups and I need to disentangle myself to get a drink.

My hands are quivering so badly, I fumble with the ties of my game bag. A gentle hand covers my left wrist and stops their frantic motions. I fall to sit ungracefully in a flop as Gale works the knot from my bag, retrieves the canteen, and hands it to me. Somehow, I manage to unscrew the lid and chug a few gulps. Gale pokes around in the bag, pulls out a piece of chicken, and sits to enjoy his breakfast.

I'm thankful that he gives me a minute to compose myself and doesn't make any comment on my outburst. When my breathing is almost back to normal, he hands me a few slices of bread, a piece of chicken, and an orange.

"What do you want to do today?" he asks, peeling rind from his fruit. "The snare line needs to be checked, but we can do that on the way back." He pops a slice into his mouth, holding out his hand for my orange.

I'd been struggling to break the peel on it, but Gale pulls most of the rind off in one piece. He hands it back and I'm overcome with emotion once again. Though this time, it's a feeling of contentment, a respite of normalcy. My mouths turns up into a genuine smile, a smile that widens when Gale returns it. The muscles in my face smart from lack of use.

"I've haven't hunted in a while," I say. It's true. I haven't touched a bow and arrow since the arena.

"All right, then," Gale says, standing. He offers me a hand and pulls me up. "Hunting, it is."

We pack the remains of our breakfast, mainly the leftover paper wrappers and the last few slices of bread, before walking deeper into the woods.

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><p>As the day wore on, I noticed the void between Gale and I growing. We had never been overtly talkative, but the conversation from this morning had descended into the occasional exchange about Seam life. At times, it even felt stressed, awkward. Gale kept shooting me those tortured sad looks and I was starting to get frustrated. I wanted this day to be a respite from the grind of District 12 life and what it had become. Who would have thought that I longed for my old Seam life and the never-ending cycle of hunting, school, hunting, barely eating, sleeping.<p>

We were almost to the end of the snare run when bravery encouraged me to try talking again.

"I know you're really busy now," I said, stumbling over the unspoken words of mining and 12 hour long days. "So I could take over the daily snare run if you want."

We stopped walking and Gale turned to look at me, a slight frown on his face. He shifted his weight, his hands finding his hips and looked away as if contemplating my words. I really didn't think my offer was that much to consider, and I rushed to fill in the void.

"It's not really like I have a lot to do back there…" I couldn't use the word home to describe the Victor's Village residence where most of my waking hours were now spent. I had hoped that today would have opened the door for our usual Sunday routine to return. Maybe Gale was having second thoughts.

"I mean, of course, I would trade whatever was caught and bring it over to your place…" I drifted off. Gale studied me intensely, and I was getting that little nagging in my head that suggested he wasn't entirely listening to me.

"Are you…"

But Gale was moving and I couldn't even process his intention before his roughened palms held my face and he pressed his lips gently to mine. Gale was kissing me. He tasted of oranges, smelled of smoke and cedar, things I could remember through the roaring in my head. All the rest seemed to fade incoherently into the background. I felt my fingers curl into the shirt against his chest as I moved closer, and I realized I was kissing Gale back. He was heat, and strength, and stability. Gale was everywhere.

And then he was pulling back, still holding my face in his hands and my eyes with his own.

"I had to do that. At least once," he said.

He was gone before I could ask him to wait.

The smart thing to do would've been to go home and alleviate my mother's growing worry as to my whereabouts. In order to make smart decisions, my brain would have had to been engaged and functioning and while I knew my heart definitely was working, pounding wildly in my chest, I slumped awkwardly to the ground, in complete overload.

Gale kissed you, I kept thinking. Gale _kissed_ you.

_And?_

And what?

_Well, did you like it?_

Well, I think so. I mean, I must have…

_Why do you say that?_

I kissed him back.

_So you kissed him back. You kissed Peeta…_

But not like that.

_Like how?_

Like… well, it was like… I can't even describe it…

_Try._

It was like a reaction. I didn't have to plan it.

_Second nature?_

Exactly. I just followed along and I didn't stop it.

_Did you want to stop it?_

No… not really.

_So you wanted him to kiss you?_

Well I wasn't expecting him to kiss me.

_But he did._

He did.

_Do you want him to kiss you again?_

I…

_You…?_

I don't know.

_Why?_

I mean, he's my best… friend.

_So, best friends sometimes become more than best friends._

Is that what he wants, though? I mean, I thought it was simpler than that.

_For you maybe. For him, maybe not._

…

_What's wrong?_

I'm just trying to understand this.

_Let me give you a few hints. Suggesting running away with you? Suggesting having a family to you? Spending his free time with you?_

But he spends time with other girls. That doesn't mean anything.

_Really, Katniss…?_

What?

_I think maybe you knew how he felt and didn't want to acknowledge it._

Why would I do that?

_Because you might be afraid how you feel._

That's ridiculous.

_Is it?_

I scowl, gather my belongings and head toward the fence.

_~Fin_


	2. Chapter 2

Sundays  
>Sinking815<br>November 20th, 2011

_Author's Note: So I decided to continue this story and it definitely takes an AU turn here. I'm kinda fascinated with the whole forbidden romance thing so at the risk of sounding like a total fangirl, I think that's what I'm going to attempt to explore here. As always, reviews are appreciated!_

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><p>I should know better than to leave a question to myself, unanswered. It follows you around, demanding an answer. But I was extremely stubborn and refused it, though it drove me crazy all week. Anytime I had a moment to myself, it would jump out from behind the corner, hovering and staring at me. I nearly scared Prim half to death when I lost my temper in the laundry room, slamming the dryer door and making that strange gasping anguished noise from Sunday.<p>

Sunday.

It was a terrifying thought and a welcoming balm all mixed into one confusing package. I welcomed the thought of another Sunday in the woods, time spent with Gale. I was also terrified of confronting Gale after our last Sunday, worrying incessantly over his reaction. Would he be mad? Would he want me to say something profound? Would he even want to see me again?

As soon as I started considering the future, my line of questioning turned from Gale to me. Was I mad? Was I supposed to wait for something more? Did I want to face him Sunday?

Being around Peeta only confused and upset me more. Though, he didn't question me, I could tell he felt the conflict bubbling just underneath my calm collected exterior. He and I had come to a semi-mutual understanding that I would play the game of adoring girl for the cameras, for his sake, but the words spoken a long time ago on a train ride back to District 12 hung like a cloud between us. I kissed him when it seemed appropriate, and everytime I looked into his eyes, I saw the hurt and the frustration and the overwhelming love in the blue. He could see that something had changed.

I tried to compare my kisses with Peeta to my kiss with Gale. To see if I could glean some kind of emotional calm by analyzing them like a third observer. Thoughts of Peeta's kisses sent a sickening plunge of guilt and despair through me, leaving me disgusted with myself and wondering if I was wrong to openly not want his unadulterated affection. Thoughts of my kiss with Gale left me staggering, my hands blindly searching for the wall, a twisting in my stomach not an entirely unwelcome sensation of heat roiling throughout my body.

In a moment of complete disorientation, I almost asked Madge what to do. She and I still visited often enough that I liked to consider her the close friend that she was before the Games. But I was afraid to confess what had transpired between me and Gale. Not everyone was willing to acknowledge the lies of our supposed familial connection. Also, the paranoia in me was increasing with every passing day.

I kept my promise to Gale, checking the snare line every day, hunting a little and fishing when I could. I delivered a lot of the game back to Hazelle, pretending not to notice how her eyes watched me sadly, smiling when she suggested I stop back when Gale came back from the mines. Only once did I shudder at the mention of my friend's new occupation, and though I blamed it on the changing season's chill, I knew I wasn't fooling Hazelle.

I lay awake most of Saturday night. The anticipation of the woods and the hunt was only a partial contributor to my tormented state. I was more anxious than anything. I slept in fits, waking from nightmares of the Capitol, the Games. The worst was when I woke with a start, clammy and sticky, so flushed and warm beneath my layers, that I angrily kicked them off, stormed to the bathroom and spent several minutes splashing my face with cold water. My lips tingled as I patted my face dry with a towel, and I touched them, recognizing only then that I hadn't had a nightmare – I was dreaming about Gale's kiss.

Sunday morning came after a long night, and I hurriedly threw together my game bag, some breakfast, barely remembering to ease the door shut to not awaken my mother or Prim in these early hours. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as I marched toward my house in the Seam. I flew through the front door exchanging Capitol made boots – worthless things of stitching and faux ruggedness – for my worn reliable boots and my Father's hunting jacket. It was not quite cold enough for a wool cap so my braid bumped my shoulder in tandem with my long quick strides.

I was running on adrenaline by the time I slid under the silent fence, and sprinted to our place against the rocky ledge overlooking the valley. Gale was already there, and suddenly, I wished I had not come flying into the hollow like an animal of prey. His eyes ran once up and down my length, as I stood there blowing hard and feeling like if I spoke, my heart might come through my mouth.

"You came," I said, between pants. The way my breath hitched at the end made it sound like a question.

"Why wouldn't I have come?" Gale asks, his face breaking into a smile and I really wish he wouldn't fix that look on me the way he does. Something stirs inside me and I quickly sit, busying myself with breakfast before my legs wobble and give me away.

"I don't know," I huff, acutely aware of his eyes studying me. I hand him a canteen of tea without looking him in the eye. "I think I was just worried you wouldn't show up…" I left my voice trail off, afraid to mention the kiss, lest it start a fight.

"Because…?"

My eyes snap up to meet his grey stare full on, and there's a sudden lurch to the ground beneath me. I am confused and unsettled at his apparent lack of understanding why I might think he wouldn't show. There's a tense pause between us, or at least tense for me, because Gale's smiling that crooked smile at me and biting into an apple with a crunch. It's the one he saves for me, just for me, and I'm completely melting inside which is ridiculous because I never used to react like a mess.

_Is it?_

Shut up, I think to the voice in my head. It is ridiculous.

"I think I'm going insane," I say blankly. I'm not sure exactly what I mean by blurting out such a crazy statement, but Gale laughs and shakes his head.

"Well, I already knew that, Catnip," he teases. "Come on, let's go before the sun gets any higher."

He holds out his hand to help me up and I take it, wondering if maybe I really am going insane when I feel his fingers twist in mine before he drops my hand and begins clearing our breakfast remnants.

We hunt most of the morning and are rewarded with a few squirrels and a rabbit. Gale's just about to suggest we walk the snare line when a maniacal laugh from a roving wild dog pack makes us reconsider on lingering in the woods. They usually don't bother us but this late in the warm seasons, wild dogs become less and less preoccupied with selective hunting. We head for the relative safety of the river to avoid any unwanted encounters.

In the valley, the sun is bright and I have to raise my hand against its glare as we emerge from the forest. The canopy overhead, still thick with leaves, does a remarkable job at shielding the forest floor from the brilliant rays. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, but the warmth washing over me is welcome and I feel my tense muscles start to unwind. Turning my face toward the light, I close my eyes, basking in the final few moments of summer and feeling for a second like the Katniss before the Games.

Until I open my eyes to find Gale considering me in a way I have never seen him look before. There's an intensity to his gaze, a wildness of stormy grey that makes me uncomfortable and intrigued simultaneously. At first, I'm not sure he even notices that I notice, but it's only a second or two before he snaps his head around and walks to the water's edge to fill his canteen. I stare at his back a solid moment and then move to join him, wary and apprehensive.

We drink in silence, the cool river water soothing against my parched throat. I think I'll never be more grateful for water since I nearly dehydrated to death only a few short months ago. It's funny how time can change your perception. Before the Games, I always appreciated the river and its supply of refreshment and fish, but this is a different sort of appreciation. A newfound respect.

"If you frown anymore, Catnip, your mouth might fall off," Gale teases.

I look to my side to see him lying on his back, stretched out on the sandy bank. He reminds me of Buttercup after he's caught a mouse, when he cracks one eye to look at me and smiles a sleepy content smile. I keep frowning.

Gale's face becomes serious at the lack of change in my expression and props himself up on his elbows, squinting at me and asking, "Catnip?"

I swallow hard, frowning back across the river, because I'm not sure I can say this next thing while looking at him.

"I don't want anything to change between us." It sounds good until the end, when my voice wavers. I hear him sit up, more than I see it out of the corner of my eye.

"Nothing's changed," Gale says. My lower lip trembles and I can't believe I'm trying once again not to cry. "What's going on, Katniss?"

"You kissed me, Gale," I whisper.

He doesn't respond right away and I have to look at him to see if he's angry. Gale's looking at me, unsure and searching, his eyes darting back and forth, seeing my wet gaze staring back. We stare at each other for a long time, and I am starting to think he's not going to say anything at all, that he's going to continue to pretend the kiss never happened when he says the one thing I'm not expecting.

"I had to," he says.

My look of confusion is my question "Why?"

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time." He looks away, embarrassed. I know, because of the way he's wringing his hands between his drawn up knees, the way his face scrunches and unscrunches as he replays his words in his head. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Now I'm confused.

Gale rises in exasperation and paces a few steps, before turning to face me.

"Because it obviously upset you, Katniss!" He attempts to say something more than looks down at his feet. "I can tell it's been bothering you all day."

"I'm not upset," I say, standing with him. I'm a little unnerved by the way he towers over me and though I don't even come up to his shoulder, I feel a little better with a smaller height difference. "I'm just… confused."

Gale raises an eyebrow at me.

"I didn't think you wanted that," I say. "At least, not from me."

I'm hoping that Gale might explain himself more, but his silence actually cements into my head the gut feeling I have been carrying around all week. Gale wanted - wants - to be more than friends. With me. My acceptance of the fact spins my own world out of control. My stomach flutters and my heart sounds loud in my head. The voice that speaks does not sound like my own, nor does it say what I think it should.

"If I asked you to kiss me again," it says, "would you?"

I do not miss the way Gale's eyes flare with that same dark emotion I'd caught him watching me with before. This time, I do not miss the flare rising within me as well.

"Are you asking me to?" he says, guardedly.

I nod weakly, and he fixes me with a stare, eyeing me warily like an animal sensing a trap but not strong enough to stay away from the bait.

"Yes," I say. "I'm asking you to."

Gale closes the distance between us, hesitating only a moment before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. I feel his nose gently pushing against my cheek as he kisses me softly, adding more pressure with every pass of his lips. Something tells me to get closer, feel more, and I do, drawing my hands up to twist in the hair at the base of his neck, pulling him toward me. I don't have to think, don't want to breathe, but necessity makes me pull away.

We stand there, gauging the other's reaction, hot breath fanning across each other's flushed faces. I know I should relax my grip and back out of his embrace, but I don't want to. Instead, I raise my face and softly draw my lips against his. Gale makes a low sound in the back of his throat that sends a shiver straight down my spine and if it wasn't for his arms holding me tightly against him, I would've collapsed at his feet. We kiss with a bruising force and I feel like I am trying to crawl inside Gale, his touches and his kisses setting my skin ablaze. This is not gentle and naïve like my kisses with Peeta, and while I hate myself for thinking it, I am beginning to think I like this kind more.

Gravity does not shift when I kiss Peeta; the world is on fire when I kiss Gale.

_~Fin_


End file.
